


Green

by VibrantVenus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALTERNATE VOLDEMORT DEATH, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Avada Kedavra, BITCH YOU GOT ME FUCKED UP, Black Harry Potter, F/M, Ficlet, Hell no, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, I'm tired, It's 3 am, M/M, Murder, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmates, WE AREN'T HAVING ANYY OF THAT WEIRDASS BUTTERFLY SHIT, also, decided to write something, hell to the motherfucking no, his race i mean, i just thought y'all would like to know, idk - Freeform, it's barely mentioned - Freeform, kinda angsty, kinda sad, kinda sad rn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 16:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10365288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VibrantVenus/pseuds/VibrantVenus
Summary: Five times Voldemort casts the killing curse at those with eyes to match.





	

1.

   Lily Evans Potter would be a worthwhile enemy, he thinks. If only she had her wand, if only she stepped aside. Lily Evans could have been great if she made different decisions, different friends. She doesn't struggle when he raises his wand, if anything she quiets. It's suspicious, but he doesn't quite care. He is ensuring his future, the future of the war, the future of the wizarding world itself. "Avada Kedavra," pulls from his lips, and he stares as her body slumps down. He doesn't notice the slight grin curling at the corner of her lips. 

2.

   He steps over her body, redirecting his gaze at the child inside. Weepy green eyes meet his own, and the world shifts. His hand trembles, and his head snaps to the deceased woman at his feet, snarling at the smug grin pulled across deadened lips. He looks at the child once more, squinting heavily. He slides his wand into it's holster, grabbing the small child under the arms. He raises the child, holding him against the light, shadows washing over young features. The child-Harry does not struggle in his grasp. "How could a small thing like you, destroy me?" He puts the child back down and stares for a moment longer. Decision made, he grips his wand with confidence. "Avada Kedavra," slides like silk from between his lips, and he doesn't have a moment to freeze at the shade of green bouncing back at him, the shade of green that seemed to be a perfect match for Harry's eyes.

3.

   Thirteen years later he meets Avada Kedavra green eyes once again. The boy is pitiful, soaked in blood and sweat, tears running down dirtied cheeks. The boy was clearly terrified, but fury oozed from his uplifted chin and pain-stiffened shoulders. He looks strangely small, and he wonders for a moment if fourteen year-old's were supposed to be that small.  His head tilts, "Bow to death Harry." He delights at the snarl pulling at dark lips as the boy begrudgingly bows. Then they're off, spells bouncing every which way. It is almost laughable how weak the boy is magically, then again-he is only fourteen, he has only had four years of magical training whereas Voldemort has had more than a few years to master his own magical teachings. His grin is vicious, "Avada Kedavra," tears from his lips and in an instant Harry's muttered "Expelliarmus," It's almost upsetting to watch how the boy has clearly given up, resigned himself to his fate. Or not, he thinks dangerously as their spells meet in the middle, brilliant sparks of gold caging them in. It becomes a struggle to keep a grip on his wand, and he can see Harry struggling with his as well. There is a flash of silver and with a startled yell, he releases his wand, leaving them to fall to the ground. With a furious shout he races for his wand, but it is too late. The boy has left. Palming his wand murderously he turns to stare down at his Death Eaters. "Never again, will we go through that humiliation."

4.

   Three years have passed since that fateful day, and Harry looks as beautiful as a boy his age could get. Dark skin glowed in patches where the full moon was shining through the trees. Vibrant green eyes flared dangerously as Bellatrix cackled happily, and his jaw clenched. Voldemort wonders, momentarily what life could have been like, if he was younger and there was no war tearing any potential future between them to shreds. He wonders if he could have accepted growing old with Harry, growing old and dying with Harry, but then-if there had been no war, no boogey man in the night to steal his parents away, would Harry still be his Harry? The boy, because that is what he is- a boy with too much responsibility shoved on thin shoulders, looks tired. As if preparing to rest for the first time in years, and perhaps he was. "Harry Potter, come to die," Brilliant green eyes meet his own, and he is struck by the stubborn breath of life still hiding in the corners. How can he cling so desperately to life, yet remain so clearly defeated? Boys like this weren't supposed to look so old, but then..was he really a boy? Even when he'd seen the boy before-he'd always looked so bone-weary. An old-soul in a young boy's body. He strides forward, wrapping his fingers  around the boy's chin. It is fascinating, the bone white of his fingers contrasting sharply with the honey brown of Harry's skin. "You could have been great, you know," the moment seems too intense for anything louder then a whisper. Weary eyes meet his own, "Our definitions of greatness are limited only by our ways of life. I am already great, Tom."  The moment feels bittersweet, and he backs away, fingers slipping away from Harry's jaw. "Avada Kedavra," he whispers. Harry closes his eyes as the spell hits him, and suddenly he feels numb.

5.

   He'd have been a fool to believe this boy anything but sunlight. Brilliant green eyes meet his, and he suddenly feels so tired. This boy is captured starlight in a mortal shell, and he's been a fool not to recognize him for what he was. "Goodbye Tom," Harry whispers. "Avada Kedavra," he whispers once more, Harry's Expelliarmus collides with his own spell, encasing them in the golden cage from many years before. When his spell bounces back at him, his last thought is of brilliant green eyes shining with bittersweet victory. He falls, and everything is over.

\---

Follow me on Tumblr maybe? [@kuriinaa](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kuriinaa)

 

**Author's Note:**

> Probably being overly paranoid but yeah whatever. YOU CAN TOTALLY IGNORE THIS I'VE BEEN WRITING SINCE 2:30 AM AND IT ABOUT TO BE 4:35 AM
> 
> If you're wondering why Harry's "Blackness" wasn't a big part of the fic: first off-it's like three am, I'm tired y'all. Second, it's not really all that important? Like, it's important but it's not a defining part of the story? He's still mostly the same guy, just, black. So yeah, I just didn't think it was important enough to be a major deal in *THIS* fic-though I may write a story in the future focusing more thoroughly on a Black Harry-or mixed at least, and his race.  
> If you're wondering why I made Harry black at all: When I first read Harry Potter, I was pretty sure Harry was a POC, watching the movies slightly changed that for me. Still, most times I write Harry Potter, I write him as someone that isn't explicitly white. It just makes sense, like think about it. Racism is a huge fucking thing, and a lot of Harry's situation as a child just reminded me of it. First of-It's very clear that Petunia fucking HATED James, like sure he was magical, so that was one thing but she seemed to dislike him even more than Lily. Could it be because he was 100% magical, and a stranger to top it off? Sure, but if he was Black, or Mexican, or Asian, or any other race that isn't white it makes more sense as why she seemed to hate him so much. Second-the Dursley's treatment of Harry and why a neighborhood full of people weren't immediately running for the phone to call the police. Let's talk about Tamir Rice, and Tyre King, Michael Brown, Cameron Tillman, Roshad McIntosh, and Diana Showman. All were black children and teens, deemed untrustworthy and killed by white (or Black in one case) officers when most weren't doing anything all that bad, yet white people (children-adults) will be most-likely be talked down instead of immediately shot and killed. (*COUGH*Jesse Deflorio*COUGHCOUGH*) Look, my point is, people always seem to trust white children+people more than children and people of color. This is also one of those suburbans, where everybody is the same, and the most extravagant thing is probably someone new moving into the neighborhood. So imagine-white family tells you Harry (Who is possibly NOT WHITE) is untrustworthy, and a thief. If you were one of those white people living in that neighborhood-you'd have most likely believed her. Finally-his hair. It sounds stupid-but it was mentioned in the first book that Petunia didn't know how to work with his hair so she cuts it all off. It regrows overnight yadda yadda. You could say he just has magical hair-untameable by muggle means, or you could say he was black and a white lady just didn't understand his hair.  
> Look-canonical Harry was probably white, but it's just... Representation matters, whether it's coming from Mexican fanfiction authors (like me yo) or well-known authors like J.K Rowling. REPRESENTATION FUCKING MATTERS.


End file.
